


Catch Me If You Can

by Sangrylah



Series: Collections of Snippets and 0Ss (1st season) [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 16:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangrylah/pseuds/Sangrylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <cite>He runs. He runs for dear life, because they will kill him if they catch him.</cite>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch Me If You Can

He runs. He runs for dear life, because they will kill him if they catch him.  
He pants just a little, softly, and his heart beats just a little bit faster but he knows it’s too much, too loud, and he sweats, just a little too, but it’s still too much. They can smell and hear him and track him down. They are too close to him. Always will be.  
His knees hurt and his trouser legs are soaked to mid-calf. The ground is uneven and slippery because of the wet and semi-decomposed fallen leaves and because it’s Stiles’ life now, he stumbles, falls and rolls down the slope until his knee connect with a tree trunk.  
A shot of pain pierces his articulation and makes him grunt. Exactly what he needs. Craptastic. Damnit. His leg throbs dully as he scrambles to his feet, truly panting now, and gets to his hands and knees.  
Unsurprisingly, that’s when the first wolf jumps him. The collision sends them tumbling down all the way down the slope. He holds on the werewolf, arms and legs entwined with the wolf’s, because even he knows that rolling and flailing around deadly claws is a really, really bad idea.  
When they land, he wastes no time and kicks with his foot for all he might, satisfied to feel it connect with something and scurries away on hands of knees.  
The wolf catches his calf and drags him back with his teeth. He tries to resist and grabs haphazardly a fallen branch. It doesn’t work so he rolls on his back and begins to kick the were’s shoulder to dislodge him. It is not very effective either. The wolf relaxes its grip, but only to stand over him growling and snarling, teeth that could break his arm like a twig bared, claws that can rip his chest open for them to feast on his heart poised against his sides. The beast’s eyes are red.  
He’s going to die.  
No way! He grinds his teeth, rotates his shoulder, and swings. The branch hits the wolf’s head with a resounding CRACK and the beast stumbles, tripping on its prey and falling on the ground.  
Logically, something to his right howls and jumps him (again) at this very moment. He swings his makeshift weapon by reflex and strucks it down with a blow to the ribs. Panting, he scrambles to his feet, aware that the third wolf is around if the first two are here. No time to run, he has to fight. He grips his branch tighter and backs off slowly against a tree.  
A growl makes him lower his eyes. The first wolf - bigger, faster, stronger - older. Nastier, too - is coming back to its senses. (and what amazing senses!) It will shred him to pieces. The teen licks his lips and hesitates, wondering. Is it really necessary? The wolf is down, he bashed its head, what could it do now? Then the were exhibits an impressing row of teeth and okay, maybe it’s necessary. Stick raised, he steps forward, and the third wolf pounces on him from behind, pushing him on the ground under its weight. Its claws dig into his shoulders and he can feel its breath on his neck. The warm puff of air makes him shiver, because _he’s gonna die_ , the wolf will rip his neck out, break his spine, and-Christ!- the weight on his back suddenly disappears. Stiles rolls on his back to see what is happening. The first wolf, the alpha, has pinned its beta to the ground and snarls at it. The younger male submits, exposing pale and vulnerable throat and belly. The alpha makes a sound between a growl and a purr and get up, apparently satisfied.  
The wolf turns to Stiles. Blood mares its temple and its mouth.  
“You’re bleeding.”  
“Uh. Yeah. Yeah? Maybe.”  
“You are.” The second wolf confirms. “I can smell it.”  
“Oh.”  
“I’m sorry.” The third wolf says, standing up.  
“No, no, it’s okay. I’m fine.” It’s a lie, and they know it, because the first rule to this training is that no blood is to be drawn from the human, that just obviously happened, and he smells fearful and frightened, which never happened before, Stiles being Stiles (i.e. of the stupidly brave type.)  
Stiles can feel Scott hover behind him, anxious to find out the extent of his injuries and to mother him, but Derek is kind of anal and a bitch (ah! Stiles will never tire of this one!) after this special training and would rip his head off. The frame of mind of the chase, Scott says. Inborn bitchiness, Stiles counters. Shut the fuck up, Jackson shots back. Ah, being pack…  
“Show me.” The apha requests.  
“You know I gladly would, if I only knew from where I’m bleeding.”  
The wolf growls sourly and kneels before him, still plopped on his elbows on the dirty ground. He makes him sit and grabs his arm, turning it to expose the scratched skin on his inner wrist.  
“Oh.”  
Scott and Jackson hover closer now, worried, and watch intently as their alpha inspects their human pack member.  
“You fought well. You didn’t hold back, it’s good.” Derek says. Stiles nods once. “Backing up against the tree was a good idea, and the stick gave you range to defend yourself without behind clawed.”  
Stiles hisses when Derek’s fingers probes his knees, making him band and rotate it.  
“What did you intend to do when Jackson got you?” Derek asks while pushing him on the ground on his belly. He presses on the claws marks on his shoulders. Jackson whines.  
Stiles winces, but not because of the claws marks. “I, uh, kind of wanted to bash your head? Again. But only because you were regaining consciousness”, he adds hurriedly.  
He can feel Derek nods. It’s weird. “It was a dangerous, but ultimately wise, move. You can’t escape two wolves, they team up against you. It’s good that you were ready to hit me again. You shouldn’t hesitate, and you didn’t. You’re learning.”  
Stiles nods again. Before, he used to hesitate because, hello, teenagers in these furry packagings, who he goes to school with, too. Then one day, Derek jumped him, pinned him to the ground, clawed at him and bit him, drawing blood, sweat and tears from the teen. Scott nearly got killed this day foolishly attacking the older alpha to protect his friend and Stiles never forgot the sheer **terror** Derek’s acts caused him, even when he was puppy piling with all the pack (Derek included), and the lesson stuck.  
He never hesitates now.  
“Thank you.”  
Derek hums and gently pats his hip then stands up, letting Scott help Stiles to do the same. The teen leans gratefully on his friend, relying on his wolfy strength, exhausted. There is no more adrenaline circulating in his body and he’s beginning to crash. But never fear - a puppy pile (the center of which he is entitled to be this time!) and a snack, and he will be right as rain.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s Stiles!centric because he is the only human of the pack who doesn’t know to fight and/or defend himself. Allison is a great shooter and his dad will probably teach her all he knows about werewolves and their weaknesses - and I have the feeling he knows LOADS, don’t you? Plus, Stiles always goes in the danger, foolishly brave as he is, and ends in trouble. It makes sense, right? (Plus, okay, right, I really love him! *flail*)


End file.
